Infinitely Losing My Edge
Yeah, I'm losing my edge.
I'm losing my edge.
The kids are coming up from behind.
I'm losing my edge.
I'm losing my edge to the kids from Norway and from Copenhagen.
But I was there.
I was there in 1971.
I was there at the first Selda show in Istanbul.
I'm losing my edge.
I'm losing my edge to the kids whose footsteps I hear when they get on the decks.
I'm losing my edge to the internet seekers who can tell me every member of every good group from 1967 to 1970.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Tehran and Copenhagen.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Johannesburg kids in little jackets and borrowed nostalgia for the unremembered nineties.
I'm losing my edge.
I'm losing my edge.
I can hear the footsteps every night on the decks.
But I was there.
I was there in at the first Suicide practice in a loft in New York.
I was working on the synthesizer sounds with much patience.
I was there when Captain Beefheart started up his first band.
I told him, "Don't do it that way. You'll never make a dime."
I was there.
I was the first guy playing 48th St. Collective to the disco kids.
I played it at Trash.
Everybody thought I was crazy.
We all know.
I was there.
I was there.
I've never been wrong.
But I'm losing my edge to better-looking people with better ideas and more talent.
And they're actually really, really nice.
I'm losing my edge.
I heard you have a compilation of every good song ever done by anybody.
Every great song by The Last Poets. All the underground hits.
All Faraquet tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Cheater Slicks record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal electroclash hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '80s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying a clarinet and an organ and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Mark Hollis record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your snare and bought a guitar.
I hear that you and your band have sold your guitar and bought a snare.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Davy DMX,
Moss Icon,
Mo-Dettes,
Jimmy McGriff,
Kayak,
The Dirtbombs,
DJ Style,
Skarface,
Ossler,
Lalann,
Robert Wyatt,
The Standells,
Joyce Sims,
The Cosmic Jokers,
Infiniti,
The Remains,
The Stooges,
PIL,
Scrapy,
Iggy Pop,
The Divine Comedy,
The Royal Family And The Poor,
Blancmange,
John Lydon,
Ponytail,
The Human League,
The Cure,
Das Ding,
Make Up,
Con Funk Shun,
Simply Red,
Fear,
UT,
Lalo Schifrin,
Wire,
KRS-One,
Tropical Tobacco,
Kas Product,
Donny Hathaway,
Avey Tare's Slasher Flicks,
Malaria!,
John Cale,
Cameo,
Marine Girls,
Half Japanese,
Bang on a Can All-Stars,
Skriet,
Gary Puckett & The Union Gap,
Strawberry Alarm Clock,
The Knickerbockers,
Lou Reed,
Aloha Tigers,
Kauko Röyhkä ja Narttu,
Duran Duran,
Ultimate Spinach,
Can,
Angels of Light & Akron/Family,
Easy Going,
Television Personalities,
The Young Rascals,
Crooked Eye,
The Victims, The Victims, The Victims, The Victims.
You don't know what you really want.
You don't know what you really want.
You don't know what you really want.
You don't know what you really want.
You don't know what you really want.
You don't know what you really want.
You don't know what you really want.
You don't know what you really want.
You don't know what you really want.
You don't know what you really want.
You don't know what you really want.
You don't know what you really want.
You don't know what you really want.
You don't know what you really want.
You don't know what you really want.